


Birds of a Feather

by Vix_La_Rue



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: 2014 Femslash Takeover, Ableism, Ableist Language, Autistic, Beginnings, Body Dysphoria, F/F, Femslash, Larry Nightingale Sucks, Parent Death, Transgender, Transitioning, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 18:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vix_La_Rue/pseuds/Vix_La_Rue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, your loneliness ends when you least expect it to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birds of a Feather

At fourteen years old, Kathy Nightingale came out to her parents. She told them she was not the boy they thought they were raising, and that she was gay. Like most parents, Joseph and Alice Nightingale were shocked by the news. Once that passed, though, they took what their child said very seriously. If Kathy felt this was who she was, they were behind her one hundred percent.

Kathy's brother, Larry, was a different story. For weeks, Larry would ignore Kathy, and when he did acknowledge her presence, he called her by her old name and refused to refer to her as a girl. It took a great deal of effort on everyone's part before Larry finally stopped. It was plain to see nothing would ever be the same between Kathy and her younger brother. Larry never looked at her the same way again, and it would be a long time before he'd have anything to do with Kathy.

Transitioning was a tumultuous, exhausting process, especially when combined with all the other trials of being a teenager. A few months after coming out, due to Kathy's frustrations with school combined with emerging mental health problems, Alice started homeschooling her. The upside of this was that now Kathy could dress how she wanted more often. She was glad her mother was so willing to go clothes shopping with her, and she even bought Kathy a couple of wigs to wear until her hair grew out more. Her father now called Kathy his princess. Her parents’ love and acceptance were of the few things that helped Kathy cope when things got bad.

At fifteen, Kathy was diagnosed with schizophrenia. On one hand, Kathy was relieved to finally know what was happening to her mind and why she was seeing things. On the other hand, the diagnosis would be an obstacle when Kathy finally got old enough to have surgery.

Kathy was now living as a girl full time, but it would be another year before she could start taking hormones, and she was deeply unhappy with her appearance. When she returned home, she locked herself in her room and stood naked in front of the full length mirror.

The penis she could live with, but her face and upper body made her cringe. Kathy always disliked her face, even before she realized she was a woman. It wasn’t anything in particular that bothered her, but she just looked so… boyish, and makeup only did so much.

Her gaze traveled down to her flat chest and narrow hips and Kathy sighed in frustration. She was so sick of stuffing rolled up socks in her bra and praying her DIY bosom looked convincing. What Kathy wouldn’t give to have curves like the girls she saw on TV, getting to live without people questioning their womanhood or fearing for their lives.

Kathy was not naïve. She knew there was more to be afraid of than simple ignorance, and she encountered plenty of that. The online community of women like her was a blessing and a curse. Solidarity meant hearing firsthand accounts of the atrocities committed against queer and transgender women. Even other women were against them.

Kathy got dressed again and went to her computer. A few weeks ago she started a blog; nothing major, just a little space to empty her thoughts and connect with people who understood what she was going through. There was also a message board she frequented to converse with other trans women. (And chew out a few bigoted trolls.) Maybe someone would have some advice about this new obstacle.

_“Just found out I’m schizophrenic. Doctors are less likely to take you seriously when you’re crazy. What should I do?”_

Kathy stayed in her room, most of the time staring at the bottle of pills she was prescribed, until she was called down for dinner. She didn’t say a word to her family and only picked at her food until her mother said, “Sweetheart, you need to take your medication with food.”

Joseph looked across the table at Alice and their eyes met. They knew exactly why Kathy was upset, and they didn’t attempt to console her with cheap words. Kathy being comfortable in her own skin was what mattered, and they would not “so what?” or “it’ll be okay” the problem away.

“Kathy, your father and I have been talking,” Alice said. “There’s a specialist in Hale who works with transgender people who have mental health problems. Once you turn sixteen, we can go see them.”

“Do you think they’ll help?” Kathy asked. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but just minutes ago Kathy was actually considering detransitioning.

“It’s worth considering,” Joseph said. “We’ll do anything we can to help.”

Kathy smiled and blinked tears from her eyes. “Thank you,” she said.

“Don't thank us, Kathy,” Alice said softly, as she held her daughter's hand.

~

Like most children who didn’t fit in, Sally Sparrow was not looking forward to her first day at a new school. A new school, new classmates, and new teachers meant disruption of what Sally knew and was… not comfortable with, exactly, but at least she was used to the perils of her old school. She knew who to avoid and which classes to keep quiet in. She knew the quickest way to and from every class. Plus, it was a shorter distance to travel home from.

The new school was bigger, too, with more people. It took Sally ten minutes to find her first class, and it was even more difficult with her head down, trying to stay out of everybody’s way. She came in late and was thankful the teacher was understanding, it being the first day. Sally took the seat with the least people surrounding it and tried to calm herself. As Sally fidgeted with the hem of the plaid tunic that used to be her mother’s, the teacher informed her, “We were just about to around the room and get to know each other.”

_“Shit,”_ thought Sally.

Alphabetically, the students were supposed to stand when their name was called, introduce themselves, and tell the class three things about themselves. The whole classroom was very apathetic about each other's life stories unless they actually knew each other beforehand. By the time they got around to the “S”s, Sally still couldn’t think of anything to say about herself. Finally, the teacher called, “Sally… Sparrow.”

Sally flushed at the amused tone. Reluctantly, she stood up and said, “I’m Sally…” Looking past her teacher’s gray head and at the chalkboard, Sally spoke the first words that came to mind. “I hate my name; I like taking pictures, especially of old buildings; and… I’m autistic.” The class was silent, and Sally sat down. She was just glad it was over with.

Why did Sally's mom have to get a new job? That was the only reason they moved to Hale. It was why Sally had to spend her last year of high school in a strange place.

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully, other than more of the same. Sally didn't like talking about herself. She was very uninteresting, socially inept, and was always hoping for things that never happened. She and her mom didn't even own a TV. Even if someone would willingly talk to Sally, what could she say? She didn't know many other people who were uncomfortable wearing new clothes or who went out at night to sneak around abandoned houses.

Sally's mother was where her love affair with the old, nostalgic, and decrepit began. Ever since Sally was a little girl, she and her mother would go on adventures in the woods, to museums and bookstores, and when Sally got a bit older, they started sneaking into old buildings at night. Sally always liked taking pictures with the disposable cameras her mother bought her. When Sally found a great enthusiasm for taking pictures on their urban explorations, Sylvia recognized her daughter’s talent and potential. Sally was ecstatic when she received a digital SLR camera for her thirteenth birthday.

When Sally came home in the afternoon, and her mother asked her how her day was, Sally answered, “Awful.”

Sylvia turned concerned, sympathetic brown eyes onto Sally and asked, “Want to talk about it?”

Sally flopped onto the sofa next to her mother and said, “It’s such a crowded school, and everyone is so loud, and they feel the need to talk all the time. I suppose the one thing that didn’t change is everyone expects everyone to be best friends with each other, and gossip and pretend to be doing their work, but really they’re doing everything to avoid their schoolwork.”

“That must have been overwhelming,” Sylvia said. “Were you alright?”

Sally leaned against her mom and closed her eyes. “Yeah. No shutdowns, meltdowns, and for the most part, today was just boring,” she answered.

“Give it time, birdie,” said Sylvia. Were it anyone else saying those words, Sally would not be smiling as she was now. “I wish there was more that can be done. You’ll adjust, though, and you’ll find your own way.”

“I hope so,” said Sally.

Everyone said Sally was just like her mother, but Sally didn't see it. Her mom was smart, beautiful, outgoing, and everyone loved her. Sally was none of those things, despite her mother saying otherwise. She wouldn't be spending the entire school day waiting for it to end, or doing everything possible to avoid interacting with others.

~

A couple of days later, taking the shortcut home through the cemetery, Sally saw smoke out of the corner of her eye. She stopped and turned around to see, rather than a fire, the hottest girl she ever laid eyes on.

Waves of dark hair hung from a ponytail long enough to barely caress the olive skin of her neck. She had a pretty, up turned nose, lips like rose petals, and held her cigarette like a 1920s American starlet. By the looks of it, she was a couple years older than Sally. She was wearing office attire and staring solemnly at the headstone before her.

Sally didn't realize she was staring until the girl caught sight of her and called, “Hey, you.”

“I'm sorry... I didn't mean to stare,” Sally stammered. “What are you doing?”

“Grieving, what does it look like?” the girl replied.

Of course. Sally felt so stupid. Rather than continue on her way home, Sally stepped closer and asked, “Who is it?”

There was a brief pause, where the girl just looked at Sally before answering, “My mom and dad.”

Sally looked at the headstone and read the names; Joseph and Alice Nightingale. They died only four months ago. “I'm sorry,” she said. Sally could see now how red the girl's eyes were.

Sally had to get caught up staring again, and when she was caught, the girl just said, “Bad day. Actually, more like a bad four months.”

“How so?” Sally asked.

The girl laughed. “None of your business,” she said in a bemused tone.

“I'm sorry,” Sally said, shrinking in on herself.

The girl's tone changed at seeing Sally so dejected. “No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come off so... bitchy,” she said.

“No, I understand,” Sally replied. “I'm sorry I was invasive. I usually don't do this, but you look like you could use someone to talk to.”

With a smile, the girl said, “I guess I should introduce myself first. I'm Kathy, Kathy Nightingale.”

A flush came to Sally's face, and she said, “I'm Sally... Sparrow...” Sally's face grew warmer, as Kathy's smile got bigger.

“Sparrow and Nightingale,” said Kathy. “What a coincidence.”

Sally hated the smell of cigarette smoke, but she tried not to let on that it bothered her, as Kathy told her about how her parents died in a car accident, leaving just her and her little brother alone. “It's been hard, especially because me and Larry don't get along,” said Kathy. “Do you have any siblings?”

“No,” Sally answered.

“Consider yourself lucky,” Kathy said. “I may as well not have existed to that prick for the last six years.”

“Why?” Sally asked.

Kathy silently worried her lip at the question. Could she actually tell this kid she just met? She was practically telling Sally her life's story anyway. Kathy could just lie, but Sally's sincerity and the wide-eyed way she looked at her made the mere thought heart wrenching. Finally, Kathy said, “I'm transgender. I got lucky and my parents accepted me as I was. As for Larry, he just ignored me. He started sulking and acting like I was getting special treatment, when I was really tearing down my life so far and rebuilding it from the ground up.”

“Oh,” Sally replied softly. “I've never met a transgender person before, that I know of.” There was a long silence between them, as Kathy lit another fag and Sally tried to think of something to break the tension. “I'm sorry for asking, if you didn't really want to talk about it. That was rude of me, wasn't it?”

“It's okay, Sally,” said Kathy. “If I didn't feel alright telling you, I wouldn't have, but I felt like I could trust you not to run off scared.”

“Who would be scared of you?” Sally asked.

Kathy just smiled and said, “You'd be surprised.”

Soon, Sally had to leave. Her mom was probably already wondering where she was. Kathy offered to walk her home, and Sally gratefully accepted. They talked the whole way, where normally Sally only had her thoughts and sounds of the street. Normally, she didn't like long conversations. They felt so forced. This wasn't.

The moment Sally came home, she found her mom in the kitchen and exclaimed, “Thank you for moving us here! I finally have a friend!”

If only young Sally Sparrow knew how significant her bond with Kathy Nightingale would grow to be.


End file.
